Pieces of a Life
by Kirunavaara
Summary: Short pieces about Cameron's life following the death of her husband.
1. Forever

AN: An idea I've been playing with for a while. This is going to be a collection of short pieces about Cameron's life, beginning shortly after her husband dies and going on from there. I don't now how many it will be in the end. Depends on how many ideas I'll have.

Disclaimer: Chapter is named after the song "Forever" by Vertical Horizon which I borrowed the lyrics from. I don't own it or any characters and facts related to House.

Hope you enjoy!

* * *

_I wanted you to be everything to me_

_But now I've got to learn to carry on_

_And I know I cannot hide _

_This emptiness inside_

_Nothing feels the same since you've gone._

She didn't cry at first when her husband died. She felt rather numb. Even at the funeral, standing between her brother and sister who had come to support her - the only ones of her family who had come – she couldn't shed a tear. She just kept staring into space with empty eyes (life seemed to have left them with her husband) until her brother gently shook her arm. "It's over, Ally." That was when she stepped forward like a sleepwalker and threw a single red rose on top of the other flowers which already laid on his coffin. Then she turned her back to the grave and slowly walked away without looking back, not returning to the place for quite a while. She didn't cry that day.

In fact, she didn't cry for a long time. For weeks, she simply kept on going, answering questions and phone calls of people who told her how sorry they were mechanically, smiling and nodding at the right times, living her life as she was supposed to, doing everything they expected. Except crying. She even managed somehow to go to college. Days flew by like in a haze and when she fell into bed at nights she hardly could remember how she had spent the last hours. Life felt like walking around inside a great bubble where nothing could reach her these days. Her family – meaning her siblings – tried, but they failed.

The breakdown came exactly six weeks, four days and fifteen and a half hours after he passed away. She was standing in front of her bathroom mirror one evening and for the first time she really noticed how much she had changed since his death. She was so thin now and deep black shadows circled her eyes because she slept so uneasily. The sight of her blonde hair glittering in the light of the lamp suddenly made her gasp. In an instant, she remembered again how much he had loved it, how he lazily used to play with it on Sunday morning when they hadn't gotten up yet and how he called her an angel for it. She could practically feel his fingers running through it again. Allison started to shiver at that thought and soon found herself sitting on the floor, shaking violently. The tears she thought she'd never have finally streamed down her cheeks freely. She cried that whole night until she felt like there wasn't a single drop of water left inside her body.

The next day she dyed her hair brown.


	2. Close

AN: this has gotten a lot shorter than I thought it would but I'm pretty sure the next one is going to be longer.

Disclaimer: the song "Close" sadly doesn't belong to me but to Rascal Flatts. But I'm sure they can perform it way better than I ever could.

Hope you enjoy!

* * *

_It's just a worn out Notre Dame T-shirt_

_She's gotten mad and tried to throw that thing away_

_At least a hundred times_

_But she's got it on tonight._

Sometimes, when the pain got too bad, she was close to tearing it apart. Sometimes, she had thrown it against any wall of her apartment with all the force she had left in her body just to watch it slowly side down to the floor and simply keep staring at it. Those were the nights, those were the day when she didn't believe she'd ever see light again. She felt as if a thick merciless darkness surrounded her that just wouldn't pass.

In the end, she'd always get up from that couch she'd been sitting on, walk over to the end of the room and collect the shirt. She'd sigh, close her eyes for a while, take a deep breath and make her way back to the couch. Back there, Allison would sit down again, press the shirt against her face and try to catch just a faint rest of his sent in it. Sometimes she really thought she did. But then again, it could be just her imagination. Usually, that was the point where the tears would start to roll down her cheeks while the shirt muffled her silent cries. She'd curse herself for being so weak and because she wasn't able to let go and at the same time she couldn't help but wonder why this had to happen to her. It wasn't fair, she was way too young. She should be happy, go out with friends and have lots of fun. She should be dancing at bars, flirting with guys she met and have a good time. Instead, she was sitting at home, crying her eyes off until sheer exhaustion drover her to bed. She'd strip her clothes off, put his shirt on and sleep, only to awake with a migraine-like throbbing headache the next day. She'd reach for water and aspirin and wish she could spend the day in bed and didn't have to see anybody. Despite her wishes, she'd get up, fold the shirt neatly, put it away and swear that this was the last time she had let herself go like this. Maybe some day it would really be true.


	3. I Still Miss You

Disclaimer: the lyrics are from Keith Anderson's song "I Still Miss You" - never been mine and will never be. Great song though.

Now, have fun with the next chapter- as far as you can have fun with this depressing stuff. Maybe the next one will be a little lighter. Enjoy!

* * *

_I've tried sober, I've tried drinking_

_I've been strong and I've been weak_

_But I still miss you_

_I've tried everything, move on like I'm supposed to_

_I'd give anything for one more minute with you_

_I still miss you._

Two years after they had buried him, she was finally staning in the graveyard again, nervously twisting a bouquet of flowers in her hands. It was her first visit within those two years, the first time she thought she could do this without breaking down. She wondered if he understood, if he could forgive her for not coming earlier. A widow was supposed to visit her husband's grave more often after all, wasn't she? Allison felt the need to say something, to somehow explain. People always said something when they were visiting dead friends, relatives, husbands... mostly prayers, but she definitely couldn't do that. She didn't feel close to God anymore, not since she'd seen him waste away. So she kept staring at the polished tombstone for what seemed like an eternity to her. After a while, her lips started moving hestitantly. At first, it felt very awkward, talking to a stone. How was that supposed to help her? "Hey... it's me..." She raised her soft voice barely above a whisper. "I'm sorry it's been so long but I couldn't stand it before... I just couldn't. I don't know, no, I don't know if I believe you could know, but this has been so hard for me... you'd think I was prepared and I knew what was coming and then it wouldn't hurt so much but it did hurt. It hurts so bad. There were the days when I tried to ignore the pain and the ones when I thought I could handle it... but there were the dark ones, too, the ones when I thought I'd go crazy." She breathed shakingly. "I was a mess, you know? There were so many nights I got drunk so I wouldn't feel anymore because I just _couldn't_ feel anymore. I don't know if you can tell how much I miss you, my dear. Oh, how much I wish we could have had just a little more time... just a little more time. I'd give anything, if we could have just one more day, you know? One more day with you..." At that, she realized that she couldn't do this anymore. All she wanted was to throw the flowers down and then run away and hide. Instead, she laid the bouquet on the grave very gently and somehow she managed to smile a sad little smile before she slowly walked away. The setting sund touched her hair and a soft breeze gently played with it. God, how much she missed him.


	4. Runaway

AN: I'll post this story whether I get more than one review or not. And I known, I've sworn that I'd never beg for those but I'd really like to know if you enjoy or if I'm writing total crap- so please let me know.

Disclaimer: songs naturally doesn't belong to me but to Love and Theft and is called "Runaway".

Hope you enjoy!

* * *

_It's crazy, I know, to count on this road_

_To give me what I need _

_But with every state line somehow I find_

_Another part of me._

Allison threw a quick glane at the letter on the passenger seat before she turned her eyes to the highway again and hit the gas. She had been accepted for a fellowship under the world famous Dr. Gregory House. She still couldn't believe it. There had to be hundreds of candidates, some undoubtly better than her, but he had chosen _her._ A woman that had once sworn to herself never to become a doctor after she'd watched her husband die. Kind of ironic, wasn't it? So she should have the chance. People thought she was crazy. Pretty much everybody had already told her that she wouldn't last very long. Shy, pretty, naive Allison Cameron under the sarcastic, misanthropical, cynical House? They were conviced this couldn't possibly end good. Well, she was going to prove them wrong. She'd heard the stories of how he had chased some of his fellows away within the first week or even the first day, sure she had. But she also knew that this was the best chance she'd ever get.

So she had packed her bags and now she wasn't far from New Jersey anymore, after three days on the road. She'd done a little sightseeing on the way and enjoyed the thought of finally getting away from that town where she had spent the last seven years of her life. A town full of memories with the ghost of her husband always walking two steps behind her or even closer. It had gotten better within the years, but the wounds never quite healed. Maybe they'd do now. She didn't like thinking that way. It made her feel bad. But somehow she had to move on. She didn't believe that he'd want her to be unhappy for the rest of her life. Her conscience wasn't clear anyway. She felt a certain relief to get out of there and she wasn't sure if she was supposed to feel that. Should she feel reliefed to leave their old apartment, their friends and his grave behind? Maybe not. At least she thought she shouldn't. She did anyway.

As she passed the state line of New Jersey, she briefly ran her fingers through her hair, sighed and opened the window. A fresh wind came whipping in and moved her hair. She hit the gas again. This was her new life and maybe she could start over again. At least she hoped so.

Maybe it wasn't right, but she finally felt free.


	5. Maybe When I Leave

AN: I know it's been forever. And I always thought I'd never say that but I was just too busy with life. This idea came to me only tonight and started to write it down immeadiately. I also decided to leave the chronological order behind me and jump a few months forward. I plan on coming back to the rest later. Hope you enjoy!

Disclaimer: I don't own House. Quotes are from 1x17. I borrowed them and I don't get money. Lyrics belong to Theory of a Deadman and their song 'Say I'm Sorry'. I don't know if it makes really sense but it kind of inspired me.

* * *

_Maybe when I leave_

_I'll lead a life less empty_

_Maybe we were waiting way too long_

_To end this soap opera story._

A part of her wanted to laugh when she heard his speech. A part of her wanted to cry. This didn't surprise her. After all, wasn't it always like this with him? She didn't stay any longer than absolutely necessary before she quickly made her escape and drove home. Nobody really had the chance to talk to her (not that anybody really wanted to – they were just too shocked right now) so she simply disappeared into the night. That had always been her speciality after all – even when she was a kid. Little Allison had been close to perfect in fitting in and not drawing the attention of those around her towards her if she didn't want to. Her mother sometimes used to tell people that she could almost be invisible if she wanted to. A smile tugged around the corners of her lips. Good she hadn't lost that ability when she got older. Truth was, she didn't want to talk to anyone because that might change her mind. Her choice was already made. She had written her letter of resignation only a few days ago, just in case. In fact, she'd already started looking for a new job, just in case. Obviously not a bad decision. She sighed. The streets were wet from the rain that had fallen down earlier. The sky was clouded, there weren't any stars. Not that you could usually see them; the city lights were just too bright. Cameron was still debating whether or not she should say good-bye to House in person. Maybe it would be better if she just disappeared. After all, if she had to say goodbye now, she didn't now if she could stand it. She'd probably break down and cry in front of him. Embarrassing. Even pathetic. But still true.

A few hours later, she was standing in front of his door. She heard low piano music coming from the inside. It took several tries and all her courage till she finally had the strength to knock. The door swung open only seconds later. He wasn't pleased to see her, she could tell that. Probably had hoped, he could escape everybody until tomorrow. She took a look around and liked what she was seeing. The apartment seemed comfortable enough. At least the living room. "_I'm sorry. I should've taken an extra couple of Vicodin and just held my nose." "I'm guessing you did take a couple extra Vicodin." "True."_ He admitted. She laughed quietly before she collected herself again. _"You don't need to worry about firing anyone. I'm leaving." _God, she hoped that sounded firmer than she felt. _"Why?" _She looked away as he slowly came closer. _"Is this another noble, self-sacrificing gesture? Are you trying to protect Foreman?" _He questioned her. _"No."_ Of course not. She wasn't THAT stupid. Just stupid enough to fall for her boss. _"So this is just, ''Don't fire me. I quit''?" _He just couldn't let it go, naturally. _"I'm protecting myself."_ She told him. He obviously hadn't expected that. Looked quite stunned for a man who seemed to know everything. "_You asked me why I like you. You're abrasive and rude. But I figured everything you do, you do it to help people. But I was wrong. You do it because it's right." _He still looked at her like he couldn't believe it. But she had to go on. Otherwise she'd never get it out. She felt how the tears started to burn in her eyes and raised her hand. He simply looked down, avoiding her gaze, not taking her hand. Her fingers started to tremble and she tried to blink the tears that were so close to falling now away. She pulled her hand back and swallowed hard. _"There are only two ways that I can deal with things. One is in my control. That's too leave." _He still wouldn't look her in the eyes but she could tell he was breathing hard. _"Goodbye House."_ She wispered. She knew he wasn't going to say anything else and she simply couldn't take it any longer. So she turned around and left, like she'd said. She thought, it was goodbye forever and she thought it was probably good that way. She would only hurt if she ever saw him again. After all, it wasn't like she hadn't done this whole thing before. Pack your bags, leave. No big deal.

Maybe if she left now, as long as she wasn't in too deep she had a chance. Maybe it was time to end the whole flirting with their eyes thing before it was too late for her to get out of it. Maybe if she left she could find someone else who loved her and healed her. She snorted. Hadn't she thought that before? Life was kind of ironic after all. She had run here to move on. And now she was running from here to move on. Story of her life. Cameron shrugged. She'd live.


	6. Running in the Rain

AN: I know, I said I was planning on flashbacks, but I have to work with whatever comes to my mind, so this one takes place after the dinner-date-disaster in "Love Hurts". Oh, and I know it's pretty short. Sorry about that. Hope you enjoy anyway!

Disclaimer: Surprisingly, House still doesn't belong to me. Hard to believe, isn't it? Lyrics aren't mine either, they are from Hinder's song "Running in the Rain".

* * *

_I know your heart's been shattered_

_But there's someone worth the wait_

_There's so much more that matters_

_And I know you'll be alright_

_Just try to love the little things in life again_

_Like running in the rain._

The evening ended in silence. The thoughts that kept running through her head were enough for a month of conversation though. She knew he was wrong. Of course he was. "You don't love, you need." That was no better than her stupid Freudian theories. But she didn't know what to say, how to explain it to him in a way he'd understand. At that moment, she could see that he'd never believe that she really and truly loved him. She could see it and it broke her heart.

Two hours later, she was running. Not running away, not this time. She was running through the streets of Princeton. It was dark outside. It was probably dangerous for a woman. It was at least stupid. It was raining. She didn't care. She hardly noticed.

Pacing her apartment had not worked. Using her treadmill had not worked. She was not ready for drinking yet. So she was running through the streets of Princeton. The air was cold but she kept taking deep, monotonous breaths. Her hair style was ruined, her hair falling down her back in wet strands. Her clothes were damp. She felt water on her cheeks, but she wasn't entirely sure if she was crying. Allison didn't really care about that anyway. Right now, she was only focused on counting her steps. Seventy-three, seventy-four, seventy-five, seventy-six. Maybe she shouldn't have pushed him. Eighty, eighty-one, eighty-two, eighty-three. When would she finally grow up? Eighty-seven, eighty-eight, eighty-nine, ninety. Why couldn't she just be satisfied with whatever he was willing to give? Ninety-five, ninety-six, ninety-seven, ninety-eight. They could've had a good time. Just like at the Monster Trucks, she was positive about that. If she had only shut up. Hundred and one, hundred and two, hundred and four, hundred and five, hundred and six. Freudian theories. Really. How pathetic was that? Hundred and seven, hundred and seven, hundred and seven. She suddenly stopped dead in the middle of the street. She'd lost count. Damnit.


End file.
